In Which John and Sherlock Lose Their Marbles
by TotusTuusMary
Summary: John and Sherlock have to baby-sit a kitten named Marbles for three days. How hard could it be? Hilarity (and fluff) ensues.
1. Chapter 1

John trudged up the steps to 221B late one afternoon, carrying a large grocery bag containing cat food, litter, food and water bowls, and a litter box in one hand. In the other hand, he held a cat carrier containing a tiny, fluffy, gray-and-cream-colored kitten.

_Why do I always have to offer to take care of my girlfriends' pets to make up for Sherlock?_ he berated himself. Last night, he had taken his current girlfriend Sharie out to a restaurant, but, as usual, Sherlock had turned up and ruined it in an unbelievable and destructive incident involving noodles and a murder investigation. John had had to do something, and at least Sharie actually had a cat, unlike Jeanette, whose dog he had offered to walk-and who didn't actually have a dog. John winced at the memory. That had been bad. Really, he had gotten off easily this time. All he had to do was keep one kitten alive until nine in the morning three days from now while Sharie was out of town.

_Keep a kitten alive for only three days. How hard can that be?_ he thought as he stepped into the flat-and heard an explosion. _Well, maybe it won't be that easy,_ he thought as he rushed in, dreading to find out what Sherlock had destroyed this time.


	2. Chapter 2

"What was that, Sherlock?" John demanded of his flatmate, who was far too calm considering that the ceiling of their kitchen was now smoke-stained and speckled with droplets of unidentifiable (and probably better left unidentified) substances.

"Someone's been poisoning people using pasta treated with a particular mixture of household substances," said Sherlock, not even looking up. "I was testing my theory, but I must have gotten the measurements wrong."

"So basically you're exploding poisoned noodles on our kitchen table," said John in exasperation, wondering why he even tried. The poor kitten didn't stand a chance.

"Yes," said Sherlock, still calm. "Oh, and dump your girlfriend, will you?"

"No, I will not dump Sharie!" replied John angrily. "Yes, good deduction, this kitten is Sharie's, and, yes, we are going to take care of her for three days-just three days, okay, Sherlock?"

John left the kitchen and set the grocery bag and cat carrier down on the living room floor. He was unpacking the bag when Sherlock sauntered in nonchalantly. Looking up, John said, "Do you want to see her?"

"No."

"Well, too bad," John said, pulling the tiny kitten out of her carrier and showing her to Sherlock. "This is Marbles, Sharie's kitten."

"It looks like a slug," said Sherlock, eying the kitten disdainfully.

"A slug!" exclaimed John in disbelief. "How on Earth did you come up with that brilliant deduction?"

"It's small and it wriggles a lot," said Sherlock in his usual I'm-superior-to-the-entire-world way.

"Well it is definitely not a slug," said John firmly. "It is a kitten! Look at it! It's so fluffy it's probably at least half fur and-ow!-it's got really sharp claws!" he complained as the kitten, looking more and more worried, tried desperately to climb his jumper and scratched him in the process. "Have you ever seen a fluffy slug with claws?"

"Still," said Sherlock, "you should dump your girlfriend."

"No, I shouldn't," replied John, exasperated, as he tried unsuccessfully to detach Marbles from his jumper-it was his favorite one, too, and she was ruining it. "It's your fault anyway. I wouldn't have to do this if you would stop interfering with my dates!"

"Your girlfriend, your fault," said Sherlock, as he wandered off to his room.

"Great," muttered John as he finally succeeded in disentangling Marbles from his clothing. Seeing that the worry in the kitten's eyes had now escalated to near-terror, he sighed. "It's fine, Marbles," he said, "he acts like that to everyone. Except the part about looking like a slug. That was new. And now I'm talking to a cat," John finished with a sigh.

John bent to put Marbles back in her carrier, then, straightening up, called after Sherlock. "I'm off to the store to buy one of those kennel things for Marbles. She has the run of Sharie's house, so she didn't have one for me to borrow, but thanks to someone-that means you, Sherlock-that obviously won't work here. Just please don't kill her while I'm gone, okay?"

As he turned to leave, John suddenly stopped and said, "And no experimenting on her, either! None! Okay?" he waited, thinking how unbelievably childish Sherlock could be sometimes, then, hearing no response, said again, louder, "Okay?"

This time John received a vague grunt in acknowledgment, and, knowing it was the best he was going to get, he headed out.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of hours later, John returned from the store with a small kennel of the sort used to house-train puppies (and he had not had a row with the chip and PIN machine this time, thank you very much). As he opened the door and began to mount the stairs, he heard an unbelievably loud noise coming from the flat-or, more precisely, two unbelievably loud noises. One was Sherlock on his violin. The other was the surprisingly loud mewling of a tiny kitten.

John entered the flat, trying simultaneously to cover his ears with his hands and carry the kennel. Surveying the scene, he saw to his relief that Marbles was still in her carrier and appeared alive and well-apart from the crying, at least. It looked, though, as if the tiny kitten and Sherlock, sitting in his chair with his violin and studiously ignoring the little creature, were competing to see how loud and utterly obnoxious they each could be. Sherlock, scraping out one ear-splittingly discordant note after another on his violin, should by all logic have won hands down, but Marbles was not so easily defeated.

The tiny kitten stood squarely in her carrier, staring at Sherlock with her tail sticking straight up in the air. She never seemed to breathe as from her mouth came, over and over, mews of unprecedented volume and shrillness. John couldn't believe such a loud noise could come from something so tiny!

Exasperated, John turned to set down the kennel before dealing with Marbles and his flatmate, who, combined, seemed to have the approximate maturity of a socially-challenged and particularly obnoxious two-year-old. As he did so, he happened to glance at his watch: it was a little before 9:00. He sighed as he realized that this was going to be a very very long 60 hours.

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Author's Note: Sorry for how short and infrequent my updates are; I'm really busy right now! I'll keep working on it, though, and I hope you like it anyway. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, John lay in bed half-asleep, reveling in the silence. Even when John had finally gotten Sherlock to shut up last night, Marbles had continued to cry. Eventually, she had changed from her screaming that made a fire alarm seem like a lullaby to a low complaining murmur, but even this was punctuated unpredictably with ear-splitting, despairing wails just when John had thought she was finally finished.

Marbles hadn't made a sound when John brought her from Sharie's, and Sharie promised that Marbles was quiet and well-behaved, so her newly-discovered talent as an air raid siren was absolutely 100% Sherlock's fault. It was a good thing Mrs. Hudson hadn't been around yesterday evening or she would have thought someone was dying in their flat.

Eventually, it got late and nothing would quiet Marbles, so John just left her downstairs in her kennel. Originally, John had planned to move the kennel up to his room each night since she was his responsibility, but since Sherlock had caused this problem, Sherlock would just have to deal with it, and there was no way John was dealing with a screaming kitten in his bedroom all night long. Even so, John could still hear her upstairs, and just when he was nearly asleep, she would burst out again with a particularly loud wail and wake him.

Finally, though, he had fallen asleep, and now everything was blissfully silent. John thought that Marbles must finally have tired herself out and gone to sleep sometime late last night-or in the early morning, actually.

Suddenly, the numbers on the clock that he had been disinterestedly staring at came into focus and John realized what else the silence meant-he had slept through his alarm! He must have been so tired from Marbles, or maybe just so used to loud obnoxious noises, that he had slept right through it, and now he was late for work!


	5. Chapter 5

A few minutes later, John came downstairs. He hurriedly glanced at the food and water dishes in Marbles' kennel and saw that they were still full, so that was good-he didn't have time to spare to refill them. With his second glance, though, he saw that the kennel was otherwise empty-Marbles was gone! Hastily looking around the room, John saw Sherlock sitting in his chair using John's laptop (of course) and studiously ignoring John's growing consternation.

"Seriously, Sherlock," said John, "I'm late for work already and-"

"Shut up," Sherlock interrupted, still not looking up.

"I will not shut up," replied John, his voice rising in frustration. "Where is Marbles? She couldn't get out of her kennel on her own, so-" Suddenly John stopped. To his surprise, he heard the crying of a tiny kitten coming from, of all places, Sherlock's chair.

"I told you to shut up. Now you've woken her," said Sherlock irritably.

Unable to believe his eyes, John saw a tiny, fluffy gray head poke itself incongruously out of the folds of Sherlock's dressing gown. "What?" he began in disbelief, but Sherlock again cut him off.

"I didn't experiment on her, if that's what you're so worried about. I merely wanted to make closer observations of her. When I was holding her to examine the progress of the eruption of her teeth, I discovered that human contact was the only thing that made her stop that unbearable noise," Sherlock concluded. He continued to wear his usual expression of detached superiority, but it was completely ruined by the tiny kitten looking curiously up at John from his lap.

Shaking his head in disbelief, John replied, "You do know it was your fault she was making that 'unbearable noise' to begin with. Besides, when I tried holding her last night to get her to be quiet it didn't make any difference. As strange as it is, I think she likes you. Anyway, I am late for work. Since Marbles is your new best friend, you're in charge of her today. See you tonight."

John walked out, grinning, as Sherlock loudly protested that 'the creature' was not his friend-she was merely a convenient experimental subject, she was capable of causing extreme damage to his eardrums, and, moreover, she still looked like a slug.


	6. Chapter 6

A few hours later: text messages between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (who is really and truly trying to earn an honest living right now so cut it out, Sherlock!).

Need milk. Get some. SH

**No. We have milk.**

Have skim cow milk. Need whole goat milk. Get some. SH

**Why do we need whole goat milk?**

At this point, John suddenly realized that he had just asked Sherlock Holmes why they needed whole goat milk and wisely turned his phone off, then got back to work.

On the way home that afternoon, though, John turned his phone back on. He had one message waiting for him from Sherlock, explaining in typical melodramatic form why they needed whole goat milk:

Difference between whole goat milk and skim cow milk is difference between life and death. SH


	7. Chapter 7

When he arrived home, John saw that Sherlock was still using his laptop (the fact that this no longer surprised him should worry him, really it should) and that Marbles was back in her kennel. However, when he checked her food and water dishes they were filled a little higher than when he had left that morning, telling him that not only had Sherlock not initiated an experiment on the effects of food and water deprivation on a kitten, but also that Marbles had certainly not languished uncared for all day.

After supper that evening, John let Marbles out of her kennel for some exercise. He had only intended to keep half an eye on her while updating his blog, but he soon closed his laptop (which he had finally gotten back from Sherlock-really, he had half a mind to buy him some sort of economics textbook about the importance of property rights just to make a point) and abandoned all pretense of working as he watched Marbles antics. He had always enjoyed Internet cat videos as much as the next guy, but in person it was beyond hilarious!

As he watched, Marbles suddenly froze, fixing her eyes on something visible only to her. She crouched and stared intently at it for a long minute. Most of her was completely still and low to the ground to avoid detection by her imagined prey, but her tail didn't seem to have gotten the message. It stuck straight up in the air, slowly waving like a tiny, fluffy banner. Suddenly, she leaped forward and sprinted with surprising speed across the room. Unfortunately, before she reached her intended target, she tripped over her own paws and tumbled head over heels, eventually coming to rest flat on her back, staring dazedly up at the ceiling. Seeing one of her back paws waving temptingly above her, she attacked it fiercely with a tiny growl, flailing at it with her front paws and attempting, without much success, to subdue the dangerous renegade.

Eventually, though, she managed to capture it in her teeth and, almost in slow motion, toppled over onto her side, her rebellious foot still clenched tightly in her jaws. She lay there for a moment staring in front of her before suddenly abandoning her foot and flailing desperately at a new invisible target a few inches away. She scooted herself forward with her front paws, still lying on her side, then slapped her paws down on a particularly suspicious-looking part of the floor.

Suddenly, though, she seemed to realize her own ridiculous position and, as the manic light faded from her eyes, attempted to turn the motion into a casual stretch and yawn. She sat up primly and began to wash a forefoot until, suddenly, she spotted a new enemy and the cycle began all over again.

Giggling hysterically, John was surprised to hear Sherlock begin to chuckle as well. Still laughing, John asked, "Did you see her run? I can't believe something so tiny-and so clumsy!-can run that fast!"

"Well, adult cats can run at up to 50 kilometers per hour," replied Sherlock.

"How do you even know that?" asked John incredulously. "Anyway, you can't say that she looks like a slug anymore. Have you ever seen a slug act like this?"

"Still," replied Sherlock haughtily, just as Marbles suddenly attacked his toes, sending John off into renewed laughter at the pair of them.

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Author's note: In case you're wondering, I wrote this while watching kittens play, which is one of the reasons I always have such short chapters-watching kittens is extremely distracting, as John learned in this chapter! Plus, I'm simultaneously writing a Doctor Who story ("Worth Belgium," which is currently up on my profile, if you're interested). Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review!


	8. Chapter 8

The next afternoon as John walked up the stairs to 221B after work, he was relieved that everything seemed fairly quiet-or at least, he hoped that was a good sign. Leaving Sherlock alone with Marbles yesterday had worked well, but maybe he had been pushing his luck to leave them alone again. He dismissed these negative thoughts, though; Sherlock certainly wasn't the "high functioning sociopath" he claimed to be, and he honestly seemed to care about Marbles, albeit in his own strange way. John just needed to give him a chance.

Stepping into the flat, though, the first thing John noticed was that Marbles was not in her kennel; the second thing he noticed was that Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. Great. Reconsidering his earlier thoughts, John belated himself for not realizing that, even if Sherlock seemed to care about Marbles, Sherlock also seemed to care about John, but Sherlock had still tried to drug him in that case with Henry Baskerville. Sherlock's definition of caring was radically different from that of any sane human being.

Exasperated, John texted Sherlock: "Where are you? Where is Marbles?". He hoped Sherlock would reply, but in the meantime he began to search the flat for any sign of the missing kitten. John hoped that Sherlock had simply forgotten to put Marbles back in her kennel before leaving the flat, in which case she would simply be hiding somewhere, safe and sound. Then again, Sherlock frequently used the kitchen table for experimenting with poisons, and John knew that much of the rest of the flat-particularly small, dark spaces where a kitten would be likely to hide-was in even worse shape. Mentally, he changed his best hopes for the poor creature from "safe and sound" to "only mildly injured and/or scarred for life."


	9. Chapter 9

Half an hour later, John had searched the flat thoroughly. In the process, he discovered several of his missing jumpers in Sherlock's closet, all in various states of destruction. Apparently, Sherlock was testing John's jumpers' resistance to fire, strong acid, and liquid nitrogen, among other things. (John made a mental note definitely to get Sherlock that economics textbook, or at least some cheap used jumpers so that he wouldn't destroy John's!) Maybe this was why Sherlock had asked whether they had a fire extinguisher the other day (he had claimed it was pure intellectual interest, but John didn't believe a word of it.).

John also found approximately three non-human things that had once been alive (judging by the number of femurs, that is), a messy stack of paperwork from cold cases that Sherlock had declared too boring to solve, and some things he didn't even want to know what they were-but no kitten. Wherever Marbles was, she wasn't in the flat. Also, despite sending several increasingly irate texts demanding to know what Sherlock had done with Marbles, Sherlock still hadn't responded.

John decided to go ask Mrs. Hudson if she knew anything. He found her downstairs, just cutting up a pan of fresh brownies. Momentarily distracted, he said, "Those look fantastic, Mrs. Hudson."

"You mean you want one. Well, you can have this broken one," she said, smiling, "but no more! I need these for when the girls and I get together later this week."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," he said around the chocolate goodness. "But really, I came down to ask if you knew where Sherlock had gotten to."

"Oh, Lestrade came by just after you left this morning with a new lead on that pasta murder case and Sherlock left in a cab right after him," she replied.

"Oh no," said John, choking on his brownie. "Did Sherlock really just take a kitten to a crime scene? Sharie is going to kill me!"

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Author's Note: Sorry, no Marbles again in this chapter! I promise she'll be back in the next one. Maybe Mrs. Hudson and brownies make up for it? Anyway, I'll keep writing as best I can (which is unfortunately slowly, as you may have noticed...) but reviews and some constructive criticism certainly help motivate me! (Hint hint :) ) Thanks for all the wonderful follows, favorites, and reviews so far!


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